#murray bay

[postcard-from-the-past]

Ex-president William Howard Taft playing golf in Murray Bay, modern-day La Malbaie, Quebec, Canada

American vintage postcard

[fisarmonical]

Title: Campbell Howard at Murray Bay, Quebec, 1904. Location: La Malbaie (Québec). Date: 1904. Description: Campbell Howard, Gwendolen Marjorie Howard's older brother, at Lac Gravelle at Murray Bay (today La Malbaie), Quebec in 1904. The person standing in the background is not identified. The set of photographs, found in Album 2 of the collection, which record this vacation to Murray Bay also include images of other friends of the Howard family, including William, Revere, and Grace Osler. The sixth photograph on Page 37, Album 2 of the Marjorie Howard Futcher Albums Collection. Publisher: Osler Library of the History of Medicine, McGill University, part of the Marjorie Howard Futcher Albums Collection.

[lady-dulcinea]

Mina & Jonathan's moments during Whitby Bay

from the Korean production of Dracula, The Musical [정선아] Jeong Sun Ah as Mina Murray [조강현] Jo Kang Hyun as Jonathan Harker

[fishmech]

[pensfan4lfe2]

2022-23 NHL Backup Goalies per Team

(Based on ice time played/games started)

Felix Sandstrom, Casey DeSmith, Kaapo Kahkonen, Philipp Grubauer, Thomas Greiss, Brian Elliott, Matt Murray, Spencer Martin, Adin Hill,Charlie Lindgren, & David Rittich

[roosterjournal]

Commanders vs. Lions: Can Jayden Daniels Spoil Detroit's Super Bowl Aspirations?

As the 2024 NFL playoffs heat up, one matchup is drawing significant attention: the Detroit Lions taking on the Washington Commanders in the divisional round at Ford Field in Detroit. The Lions, who have had an impressive season with a record of 15 wins and just 2 losses, are entering this game as the No. 1 seed in the NFC and favorites to win their first Super Bowl. Meanwhile, the Commanders,…

[footballmanageraddict]

EuroTrip | Part 34 | A Very Different Challenge

#FM24 #EuroTrip Part 34: A Very Different Challenge. An unusual career step takes Trebor Mahtal from Austria to northern Wales. And a dropoff from the top Welsh sides gives his semi-pro @ColwynBayFC an unlikely shot at the title. Read here:

Trebor Mahtal had spent the last decade winning national titles and competing with Europe’s football elite. However, he was getting bored of strolling to title wins and on the hunt for a new challenge that tested his coaching abilities. The nations remaining on Mahtal’s European list were Belarus, Bulgaria, Croatia, Finland, Gibraltar, Hungary, Israel, Latvia, Northern Ireland, Poland, Turkey…

[betterbodyautocollision]

Auto Body Shop Near Me

When collisions happen, paint issues are a common problem, and too many shops fail to correctly color match your new parts to the rest of your vehicle – resulting in a poor job. Our collision repair services include expert paint matching to seamlessly blend the repaired areas with the rest of your vehicle’s finish. Using high-quality paints and advanced color-matching technology, we ensure that the repaired sections are virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the car.

[52paddlesblog]

PADDLE #7

28.02.24

Murrays Bay, Auckland

Log: launched from the boat ramp and paddled south past Mairangi Bay down to Campbells Bay. Ate some brioche and had a swim, then paddled back, explored the reefs a little and paddled under the wharf.

Highlight: getting back on the water after a whole month!!

Rating: 8/10 lovely

[lady-dulcinea]

“And were it only in my power Were I with you tonight... We were so happy here I wish I were back with you Back in Whitby Bay”

Over Whitby Bay, by the Austrian production of Dracula, The Musical

Performed by: Lyn Liechty as Mina Murray Jesper Tyden as Jonathan Harker

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of Army of Ghosts/Doomsday (Part 20)  

Excerpt from SFX (Sept 2014 when “The Doctor and Rose say farewell at Bad Wolf Bay in Doomsday” won 1st place in their 250 Greatest Moments in Sci-Fi, Horror, and Fantasy poll to celebrate their 250th issue):

SFX:  Revisionists would have you believe that Who was always a show with emotional impact, but barring a couple of companion departures that didn’t really become true until Russell T Davies.  His most heart-destroying contribution was this scene, in which a holographic projection of the Doctor talks to a tearful Rose on a Norwegian beach (actually Southerndown, South Wales), with the signal cutting out just before the slow-coach can declare, “I love you”.  It’s a moment everyone can identify with because, as Davies put it, “There’s an echo of every loss you’ve ever had.” We’ve all had to bid farewell to someone we care about even if it wasn’t forced upon us by the threat of universal destruction and this moment perfectly encapulates the agony of break-up.

Russell T Davies:  Thank you!  I’m not often speechless, but that’s quite astonishing. All I can remember about that day is everyone rushing like mad to get it finished because the tide was coming in.  Camille Coduri had to stand on wooden planks in case she sank.  But what a cast - David and Billie are simply magnificent.  All directed with joy, energy, and madness by Graeme Harper. I’m genuinely surprised that it means that much to people, after all this time, and thank you to everyone who voted.

David Tennant:  I remember worrying on the day we shot this that as I was actually a projection from inside the TARDIS my hair shouldn’t be blowing in the wind.  That seemed terribly important at the time and although we didn’t find a solution to it, it bothered me for weeks.  Then I saw the finished scene and of course all that matters is the end of the Doctor and Rose’s story.  Russell had weaved some glorious magic for two seasons and it all came together so perfectly in this scene that people still talk to me about it with misty eyes all these years later (and I suspect they always will.)  Murray Gold created some heart-stopping music that accentuates the misery and Billie is just breathtakingly good.  I feel very lucky to be standing on that beach, with my hair flying around, in amongst all these brilliant elements.  Whatever else I do and wherever else I end up, this will be a moment I will forever be proud to look back on.  Thanks for having us at number one.

Link to [ part one ] of the Army of Ghosts/Doomsday Behind-the-scenes posts or click the #whoBtsDoom tag, or the full episode list [ here ]

[fishmech]

out and about

[thethirdromana]

Visiting Whitby with Mina Murray

Last year I illustrated Mina's description of Whitby a selection of modern photos. This year, I thought I might go one better, so here are some views of Whitby as Mina might have seen it in the 1890s*.

[*or as close as I could manage.]

"This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbour."

"A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the view seems somehow further away than it really is."

[I don't actually know the age of this photo, but it looks about right.]

"The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down."

"The houses of the old town—the side away from us—are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow..."

"... like the pictures we see of Nuremberg."

[this is Nuremberg sometime between 1890 and 1906]

"Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall."

"It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows."

"Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones."

"This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea."

"It descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze."

[this painting by William Lionel Wyllie is from 1922, so a bit later, but I thought it was too pretty not to include. St Mary's and the graveyard are at the top left, and you can see the steep descent below.]

"The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along outside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens."

"It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there."

[from Horne's Guide to Whitby, 1897]

"Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea." 

"The steps are a great feature on the place. They lead from the town up to the church, there are hundreds of them—I do not know how many—and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them."

And a bonus - might Mina have bought one of these postcards for Jonathan?

[they are from 1903, so the answer to this is "no", but again I thought they were too pretty not to include.]

[superblysubpar]

You Can Have The Best Of Me, Baby:

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve and you share a desperate night together during the end of the world. | my blog and this fic are NSFW 18+

the song: lights down low by MAX

warnings: slightly angsty | mentions of blood, bruises, and overall end of the world stranger things are we going to die sort of things | SMUT (shower / unprotected piv - creampie).

Dark and threatening clouds fill the sky beyond the BMW’s windshield. They’re not the blues and purples of a summer thunderstorm, but black and oozing with something sinister. The pair of you lit up by random flashes of red that race across the sky. It’s all something straight out of a nightmare. It’s things only your unconscious body can conjure up, yet there it all sits in front of you. Here it is - actually happening. You never should have come back to Hawkins. 

BANG. BANG. 

Your head almost hits the roof of the car, shoulders to ears and hands slapping over your mouth to cover the scream that started to leave you. Steve glares in the rearview mirror as Murray’s voice shouts through the closed windows, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Your hands shake as they fall from your lips into your lap, caked in earth and other worldly dark goo, plus the dried blood that’s not even yours. Muscles screaming, your entire body wants to shut down, to collapse, to give up. His hand falls to your thigh and you look up through blurred vision at the boy beside you. 

Well, not a boy anymore. Steve isn’t your childhood best friend with grape popsicle stained lips, holding your hand on the roof of his house while you look for shooting stars. He’s a man. A man who you’ve loved your entire life, a man you almost just lost. Again. 

Body moving in slow motion it seems, you reach across the console, pulling his face closer as you press your lips to his softly. Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh, his other tangling in your hair as he deepens what may be a poorly timed kiss, but they do it in the movies, right? Plus, he almost just lost you. Steve tugs on the back of your neck gently, drawing you further into him and you start to climb over the console when another loud whack to the roof startles you apart. 

Hopper’s face is unamused in the driver’s window and he hooks his thumb over his shoulder - a universal signal for “get out” as he walks away, shaking his head. Steve kisses you one more time, soft and chaste and over too soon and he starts to pull his hand away from your thigh, but you grip it in yours. Staring at him as your chin wobbles, fighting off the tears you’ve kept at bay for days. He just nods, knuckles brushed by his thumb and he pulls your enclosed hands up to start the car together. Leaving a kiss on your wrist and holding it up to his cheek as he drives to the house in a daze. 

Aside from the droplets of what you hope is rain (but after everything you’ve learned, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it’s not) hitting and dripping down the windows, it’s silent the whole drive until he turns down his street. Your street. As the wheels slosh through puddles of flooded water, avoiding the caved in earth and holes into what you’d quite literally consider hell, your whisper breaks the silence. 

“It’s over.” Steve squeezes your fingers now resting together on his thigh as you dare to add on, “Right?”

You watch as Steve stares out the windshield, mouth downturned and you know he’s thinking that it isn’t. That he’s been here before. This seems far from over, it seems like the beginning of the end of the world. 

As Steve pulls into the driveway, he pulls the keys from the ignition, letting go of your hand despite the noise of protest you make. He’s around the front of the car and pulling you out quickly though, still rushing, but dragging you softly by the wrist into the house. His hands shake as his head does the same, back and forth, side to side like he’s frustrated, like he knows the answer but refuses to acknowledge it just like he did when you were kids. You’re waiting for the solid “Nope” to leave his lips, for him to push down the fear you see building in his eyes and neither come. 

Instead, Steve’s hands shake harder as his fingertips skim over your face, eyes bouncing across your own, your nose, your lips like he’s memorizing it all, like he’s memorizing you.

“It’s not over, and I can’t-” his voice cracks, his lips pressing to yours softly, “I can’t lose you.”

His mouth plants quick kisses across your skin, catching every freckle, your nose, eyebrows, and chin as tears fall down his cheeks and any crying you planned to do is shoved further away. Steve doesn’t cry. He’s breaking. He has been, and he’s been hiding it.

Your hands hold either side of his head, pulling him away just enough so you can look into his eyes, “Hey,” pressing your forehead to his, you try to force a smile, voice thick with choked back emotions, “Where the hell would I be going, Harrington?”

Steve sobs. 

His hands cling to your sides, fisting your shirt in his fingers as his head falls to your shoulder, “I’m so-sorry,” he speaks into your neck, growing wet from his tears and he presses his nose to your skin, sniffling and shutting it all down quickly. He clears his throat and you run your hands through the back of his hair.

“Steve, there’s nothing to be sorry fo-”

He interrupts you with a kiss, deeper than any of the ones you’ve shared so far tonight. It’s a kiss that he’s been holding back, one that says everything he wants to say, one that shows you all he wants to do, drawing every ounce of breath from you. Both hands falling into his hair and your body rising onto your toes, chasing and pulling away from him all at the same time as he lets you go. Both of you gasping for air as he squeezes your hips and shakes his head, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Head dizzy from the kiss, you couldn’t argue even if you wanted to try. He wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand before pulling you up the stairs and to the bathroom attached to his room. The quiet house should be a welcomed friend, but it feels too big and too ominous and Steve closes the door on it all, like the bathroom is the only place in the world right now. 

You’re both ignoring the other’s shaking hands, and you suppose your own too. Telling yourselves it’s just another shower together. It’s nothing to worry about, you’re fine. It’s over.

When you both blink and squint at the harsh overhead lighting, Steve lights candles as the water heats up, steam filling the room as he flicks off the light. Hands never losing contact if the other grabs something - yours pressed to his hips as he removes a shirt, his on your lower back as you reach in to feel the water. Stealing kisses in between the dirty clothes shed and dropped to the bathroom floor. Almost shy to remove your bra and underwear despite Steve seeing it all numerous times, gaze falling to the floor as you let yourself be exposed to each other in a new way. You don’t miss his sharp inhale as your injuries are fully revealed to him now, and he doesn’t miss the way you squeeze your eyes closed at the sight of his. Steve’s hands roam up from your bare hips and his lips catch yours again, your fingers cradling his chin as he backs you both up clumsily into the open glass door. 

Lips breaking apart as the hot water hits your body and you throw your head back with a groan. Steve lets you take the spot mainly under the stream first. Muscles unfurling as the hot water washes over you, running muddy and rust colored down the drain until it’s clear. His lips trail behind your hands as you wash the past few days from your skin. Kissing the pain and unwanted memories away the best he can.  

Swapping places, your feet overlap on top of his, unable to back away, to give him space even though you know you should. The sight of your bright red polish stark against the tile and a different shade of red mixing at your feet has you swallowing audibly, blowing out a shaky breath against his chest. Steve’s hands have been wandering over your body, brushing carefully over bruises that have faded, scars and scratches, all reminders of the ways he wasn’t quick enough, reminders of how he didn’t protect you, how close he’s been to losing you over and over again. 

Your fingers move to help wash his hair so you don’t stare at how the water runs a darker red leaving his skin than it did yours. You hide the shake in your hands by pressing his hair down flat behind his ears, swallowing the fears and tears that keep trying to rise up and out of you. 

The flicker of orange and yellow candle light cast over the room should be accompanied by music, and whispering sweet nothings to each other, slow and steamy kissing to match the haze filling the room. But you’re starting to wonder if you’ll ever have sensual and intimate moments that aren’t cast in an end of the world doom again. Shouldn’t it be over? Why doesn’t it all feel over? Steve’s eyes trail across your body still, lingering on the fresh bruise across your ribs and he bends down, the furrow between his eyebrows pressing against yours.

His lips catch your top one, a barely there brush of a kiss and he whispers, voice straining, “I need you to know,” Steve’s voice wobbles, “You’re the best-”

He squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head against yours before he pulls away, eyes dancing over your face again like he had downstairs. Like he was desperate to capture you completely in that moment because he didn’t think he’d get another chance to. 

Steve’s gaze finally finds yours, honey and moss dripping into and clinging to any crack he can find as the rough pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. His voice barely audible over the water hitting the tile now, “Whatever you want.”

“Steve-” 

Shaking his head again, his hands move to cradle your cheeks, thumbs brushing softly as tears fill his eyes, “I don’t care about anything but you. Okay? I just need you to know that I’m yours. And whatever you want - just, take it…please? We’re going to be fine, and we’re gonna,” he swallows harshly, licking his lips as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours again, “I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll give you everything. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

He holds his breath as he waits until you nod. He’ll give you it all one day, he will. A future with your own house, and kids and that fucking RV trip to the Grand Canyon you came up with when you were twelve. He knows it. His fingertips trail over your neck, tracking the beads of water that drip down your curves. Lips hovering over each other, breaths slowing as you focus on feeling every touch of his skin to yours. 

Steve’s hands settle on your hips, palms flattening and squeezing softly as he closes the small distance between you. His hands soothe up your skin, wrapping around your back, pulling you as close as you can possibly be to him. Your own hands glide over his chest, shaking fingertips brushing over the swirls of blue and purple, the angry red and raised marks. Your nose presses into his cheek and the sob you’ve been holding back falls from your lips. 

You almost lost him again. 

He nods - he knows, his own breath shaking as his fingers press deeper into your spine and neither of you can hold it in anymore. 

Lips crashing into each other, your arms fall to over his shoulders, hands tangling in the back of his hair as he presses you into the cold glass door. Lips moving furiously, panting breaths and heaving chests, his hand moves back to your jaw, pulling softly so he can tilt your head and kiss you how he thought he’d never get to again. Dragging your mouth open for him, he catches your bottom lip, teeth scraping over it and your moans mix, lost and drowning in the water falling around you. Not new touches, but it all might as well be. Watching him almost die again, you’re determined to focus on how every kiss and touch feels until the day you die.  

Steve really can’t hold back anymore, his other hand slides down, gripping at your thigh and lifting it to sit on his hip. Your frantic nodding, forehead pressed to his while your lips never stop devouring each other, leads him to let go of your jaw. Lifting your other leg until they’re both wrapped around his waist. Head hitting the glass behind you, exposing and opening your neck to him as he slides between your folds. His tip catches your clit on the drag up, the whimper you let out at the feeling he determines to be the greatest sound on earth.  

“Please.”

Begging him, you tug on his hair as his mouth presses up and down your neck, he wants too much. He wants to kiss over every inch of your skin that he thought he’d never see again, he wants to take his time, to make it all stand still. He can’t though, it’s like he has tunnel vision, the world around him blurring. Steve wants to give you everything, the best of him, he wants to be sweet and slow, show you how much he loves you, but all he can do is thrust up into you without warning, a deep and gritty moan pulled from his chest as a gasp that he wants to bottle comes out of you. 

Steve’s hands dig into your hips, bruising and holding you as hard as he can as another sob escapes your lips. Your hands drift to his shoulders, fingernails scraping and clawing into his skin as your back arches off of the door from the relieving drag of his cock along your walls and the push back in. It’s too slow for either of you - too soft, and on another thrust into you, his nose and forehead push into yours. 

“Baby, I-” 

You’re nodding as Steve chokes on his thoughts, his eyes squeezing shut, your lips catch his again. There isn’t time for words that you both already know and have said too many times to count. You just need this. You need it now. 

One of his hands supports your lower back, the other runs up and down your thigh, he’s not even holding you up anymore, you’re just clinging to him with the intent of never letting go as his hips pick up their pace. Brutal and fast, pounding into you as your lips mold around his. Every inch of your body is pressed to his, holding him to you like he can’t ever leave you, because he can’t. 

“Steve-” his name is a cry, a plea, an ask for something you don’t even know anymore. 

Hips snapping together, water smacking the tile around you harshly as your stomach tightens and your body fills with heat quickly. 

Steve is swearing against your lips, fingers dragging along your skin and your mouths aren’t even kissing each other anymore. You’re all sharp shared breaths, gasps for air, names falling out and into each other. Noses and lips bumping in passes over each other’s as he moves faster, hitting so deep over and over again that you can feel him in your throat. Sobbing as you yank on his hair too harshly, he bites your lip too forcefully, growling your name as you scream his from how much you can’t take it all anymore. 

He holds your ass now, gripping it tight enough to match the bruises he’s no doubt thrusting into you and your fingers press crescent moons into his shoulders, begging him for more when he can’t possibly give you anything else. 

“Oh-shit, fuck-” Steve’s hips start to stutter and you grab at his chin, forcing him to look at you. 

He sobs again, clutching at your body desperately, wide hands splayed across your skin, fingers digging in as you stare into each other’s eyes. Crying one another’s names until your bottom lip catches his top one in a silent scream as your release vibrates through your whole body, his following almost immediately after. Filling you completely as his hips lose all of their momentum and rhythm and he pants your name into your mouth, kissing you as you both come down and your thighs shake as your body continues to grip his.  

Steve doesn’t let you go, keeping you wrapped around him as he kisses over tear stained cheeks, whispering how much you love each other until your muscles relax again. He still doesn’t let you go as he turns the water off, not even bothering to grab towels and he brings you to his bed. It’s you who refuses to let go now, straddling him as he leans against the headboard. Wandering hands and slow and languid kisses pick up their pace once more. Sensual and soft memorizing touches turning desperate. You need to keep going, to grip the bedsheets and scream each other’s names all night long, to never ever think it was a bad idea to come back to Hawkins ever again. 

A silently agreed upon plan to kiss, and kiss some more, and never take the kisses for granted because it’s the end of the world. 

It most definitely isn’t over. 

[holdingup-fallingsky]

As today is the 49th anniversary of the sinking of the Mighty Fitz, I wanna talk about the facts of what happened. I've been hyperfixated on this shipwreck for a full year now, so if you'd like to learn more about it, please keep reading.

I feel that a good way to present this is with the Gordon Lightfoot song as an outline, as it's what most people are familiar with. When it was written in November and December of 1975 after Lightfoot heard about the disaster, he felt that it was his moral obligation to get the facts of the event as correct as possible. However, an official investigation would not take place until May of 1976 - it was delayed due to weather conditions - months after the song was recorded. That is why his guitarist Terry Clements convinced Lightfoot to do what his favorite author (Mark Twain) would have done; tell a story. 

Superior, they said, never gives up her dead when the skies of November turn gloomy. Lake Superior is the largest body of freshwater on the planet, able to fit the other four Great Lakes inside of her. She’s also the deepest, with the average depth being close to 500 ft and the deepest point being 1,332 ft deep. It is also the coldest Great Lake, the bottom clocking in at a frigid 32 degrees Fahrenheit, making it just a hair above freezing. Because of this, that means that it is too cold for bacteria to grow and makes it impossible for bodies to undergo decomposition. So, instead of float to the surface as they would in other bodies of water, the bodies of Lake Superior instead sink and remain frozen in time. As of the time that this is being written, there has only been one body found from the crew of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald. It was because of the discovery of this crewman that the wreck site has been designated as a graveyard and dives to the shipwreck have been severely restricted. 

The ship was the Pride of the American Side… The Edmund Fitzgerald had many nicknames: “The Mighty Fitz”, “The Pride of the American Side”, “The Singing Ship”, just to name a few. “The Pride of the American Side” was given to her due to her size. When she was built in 1957, the specs of the ship were made so that it would challenge those of all other freighters. She would break shipping records throughout her entire career; six times, to be exact, often breaking her own records. She was given the name “The Singing Ship” because her third captain, Captain Peter Pulcer, would play music over her loudspeakers for boat watchers to enjoy, even going out on deck with a megaphone to give off facts about the ship - such as where it was headed and what it was hauling. Her fourth captain, Captain Ernest McSroely, took command in 1972. He would remain captain through the rest of her career. 

As big freighters go, it was bigger than most… The specs of the Mighty Fitz were 729’ in length, with a depth of 39’ and a draft (how much of the ship is submerged in water) of 25’. She was given such a specific length so that she could just fit in the Soo Locks - the engineering marvel that connects the Huron and Superior lakes in Sault Ste Marie, MI (pronounced “soo saint Marie”) - which had a max length of 730’. She was the largest ship on the Lakes (earning her the title “Queen of the Lakes”, a title passed on to whichever ship is the largest sailing the Lakes) until the SS Murray Bay was launched, beating her out by a foot of length. However, despite her hulking size, she was one of the fastest freighters to sail the freshwater, her top speed clocking in at 14 knots (~ 16 mph). A very impressive speed when you take into account that she weighed 13,632 tons with an empty cargo hold. 

With a crew and good captain well seasoned… It took 29 men to sail the Mighty Fitz. Michael Armagost, 37, third mate. Frederick Beetcher, 56, porter. Thomas Bentson, 32, oiler. Edward Bindon, 47, first assistant engineer. Thomas Borgeson, 41, maintenance man. Oliver Champeau, 41, third assistant engineer. Nolan Church, 55, porter. Ransom Cundy, 53, watchman. Thomas Edwards, 50, second assistant engineer. Russell Haskell, 40, second assistant engineer. George Holl, 60, chief engineer. Bruce Husdon, 22, deck hand. Allen Kalmon, 43, second cook. Gordon MacLellan, 30, wiper. Joseph Mazes, 50, special maintenance man. John McCarthy, 62, first mate. Ernest McSorely, 63, captain. Eugene O’Brain, 50, wheelsman. Karl Peckol, 20, watchman. John Poviach, 50, wheelsman. James Pratt, 44, second mate. Robert Rafferty, 62, steward. Paul Riippa, 22, deck hand. John Simmons, 63, wheelsman. William Spengler, 59, watchman. Mark Thomas, 21, deck hand. Ralph Walton, 58, oiler. David Weiss, 22, cadet. Blaine Wilhelm, 52, oiler. These are the names of all 29 men who went down with the Edmund Fitzgerald. 

When they left fully loaded for Cleveland… The final voyage of the Mighty Fitz started on November 9th, 1975. They had a cargo load of just over 26,000 tons of iron taconite. This is where we run into our first discrepancy of the song. The Fitzgerald was actually headed for a steel mill on Zug Island near Detroit where it usually made berth. However, the word Detroit doesn’t fit well within the structure of that part of the song, especially with the Canadian pronunciation of “De-troy-at” which we hear Lightfoot use later in the song. So, Lightfoot can be forgiven here.  

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound and a wave crashed over the railing. The weather conditions on Lake Superior went from bad to worse over the duration of the storm. A few hours before the Fitzgerald sank, the SS Arthur M Anderson reported at 1620 hours (4:20 pm) that winds had reached a speed of 58 knots (~67 mph) and waves reached a staggering height of 25’. The infamous Gale of November was upon them, and they were stuck in the middle of that merciless storm. 

And every man knew, as the captain did, too, ‘twas the Witch of November come stealin’. November is infamously the most difficult month of the year to be sailing the Great Lakes. An estimated 70 plus ships have been claimed by the lakes during November alone. While November gets a bad rap, these deadly storms can occur during any of the fall months. The warmer air coming up from the south clashes violently with the colder fronts from the north, culminating into deadly gales. However, the worst of these storms happen most frequently during the 11th month. The deadliest storm on record to occur on Lake Superior was that of the Mataafa Storm. Occurring on November 27th, 1905, the storm was named after the SS Mataafa, a freighter that found itself caught in the storm and a massive loss of crew, despite only running aground 700’ from shore. These infamous gales are nicknamed the “Witch of November”. 

At 7 p.m. a main hatchway caved in… Here, we run into our next, and largest, discrepancy of the song. Now, as I stated before, the song was written and recorded before an official investigation could even be launched. So, Lightfoot had to embellish a few details to finish the song. However, the U.S. Coast Guard would actually corroborate Lightfoot’s claim that the sinking of the Fitzgerald was due to water entering through the hatchways. This report would actually anger a few mariners, some even stating that it was flat out wrong. Now, in 2024, we know that it was simply not the case. In 2010, National Geographic conducted an investigation of their own on the Mighty Fitz. While they were unable to dive on the wreckage itself, they were able to use footage of the wreck taken in the 90s that was shot in High Definition. Not only did they use the footage, but the researchers interviewed Great Lakes ship captains, one of the inspectors that inspected the Fitzgerald herself, as well as a survivor of a similar shipwreck - Dennis Hale, lone survivor of the sinking of the SS Daniel J Morrell. After conducting experiments on a scale model as well as in a simulator, they concluded that the Mighty Fitz had sunk due to rogue waves - waves that can reach upwards of 60’ and were previously believed to be a myth - splitting her in half. 

Gordon Lightfoot was asked if his song could be used in the ending credits of the documentary, Lightfoot agreeing after watching the film. It was after this investigation that Lightfoot began changing the lyrics while performing the song live. No longer did a faulty hatchway cause the Fitzgerald’s demise in Lightfoot’s eyes, so the lyric was changed to “at 7 p.m. it grew darker and then…” One of the deck hands that was onboard the Might Fitz on her last voyage was Bruce Hudson. For 36 years, his mother - Ruth Hudson - had proclaimed and insisted that her son had always done his job at securing the hatchways, and that he did it with pride. In an interview with Lightfoot that same year, he said: “It wasn’t a hatchway. I don’t know what I’m gonna change [the lyrics] to, but I’m gonna change it. I hope Ruth Hudson will be around long enough to hear it, because she’s 82 and she’s worried about that all her life”. 

The captain wired in, he had water coming in… Throughout that fateful last voyage the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, she was not alone. Another freighter, the SS Arthur M Anderson was traveling a similar path as the Mighty Fitz with an end destination of Gary, Indiana. The Anderson was, at first, smaller in length than the Fitzgerald. However, after the Anderson was refitted, she would be longer than the Fitzgerald. Though, the Mighty Fitz would take the Anderson in speed as she was still the faster vessel. The two ships would stay in communication throughout the 9th and the 10th of November, their communications becoming more frequent as the storm became worse and worse. At approximately 1530 (3:30 p.m.), the Fitzgerald had radioed in to the Anderson, telling the captain (Captain Jesse “Bernie” Cooper) that his ship had taken on water and was beginning to list (the tilting of a ship to one side that is not caused by an external force). It was at this time that the Fitzgerald informed the Anderson that it would reduce speed so that it might catch up with the Anderson. An hour later, Captain McSorely of the Fitzgerald radioed Captain Cooper of the Anderson that they had lost function of their navigation equipment - namely both of their radars - and asked the crew of the Anderson to be her eyes. The ships were approximately 20 miles away from each other, well within radar range. Both captains made the decision to hug the north side of Superior, close to the Canadian shoreline so that they might have a better chance at weathering the storm before making it to the relative safety of Whitefish Bay. 

And later that night when his lights went out of sight came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Captain Cooper had stated on record that the snow had been falling so intensely that when the Fitzgerald was within 10 miles of the Anderson, the only thing that they could make out of her was her lights. At 1910 (7:10 p.m.), the Anderson radioed the Fitzgerald about a ship that was about 9 miles ahead of the Fitzgerald, stating that they were going to clear one another and did not have to worry about colliding. Offhandedly, the first mate aboard the Anderson asked “by the way, how are you making out with your problems”. Captain McSorely answered “we are holding our own”. “He showed no signs of panic,” Captain Cooper would later admit. At 1920, the crew of the Anderson could not find the Fitzgerald on radar and attempted to radio the ship. No answer came. Fearing their radio had malfunctioned, the Anderson wired another ship close by to test their comm systems. They worked just fine. At this point, the snow had stopped heavily falling and visibility opened up. The lights of the Mighty Fitz were nowhere in sight, despite being within visual distance of the Anderson. Captain Cooper gave the order to his crew to watch for a silhouette of the freighter, thinking the ship had lost power. 

Does anyone know where the love of god goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours? The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay if they put 15 more miles behind her. According to the official U.S. Coast Guard report, the Fitzgerald was about 17 miles away from Whitefish Bay, the site of the wreck being at 46°59.9’N, 85°06.6’W. If she had maintained her top speed, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald would have made it to the salvation of Whitefish Bay in just an hour. The Fitgerald would never even send out a mayday or any indication that she was sinking. Within the blink of the Anderson’s watchful eye, the Fitzgerald disappeared. “I firmly believe that [Captain McSorely] thought that ship was gonna get him through,” Captain Cooper spoke when asked about that fateful night years later. The Anderson was the freighter to report to the Coast Guard that the Fitzgerald had gone missing after she reached Whitefish Bay at 2025 (8:25 p.m.). When Captain Cooper radioed about his fears concerning the Fitzgerald, the Coast Guard asked the Anderson if she would be willing to help with the search for the Mighty Fitz. Despite the danger of the still raging gale that claimed the Mighty Fitz, Captain Cooper agreed to aid in the search along with the SS William Clay Ford offering their help. No survivors were found, only pieces of debris from the freighter. 

And all that remains is the faces and the names of the wives and the sons and the daughters. On July 17th, 1999, all of the families of the victims claimed by the Fitzgerald’s sinking gathered on the water on the exact spot of the wreckage. This ceremony was the official consecration of the site to be a protected graveyard. No longer would anyone be allowed to dive on the site; a direct response to a voyage to the wreck in the mid-90s capturing footage of one of the bodies of a crewman. Two wreaths were tossed over the site, one donated by Gordon Lightfoot, with the names of all the 29 lost that November night. 

The church bell chimed ‘till it rang 29 times for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald. A funeral service for the men aboard the SS Edmund Fitzgerald was held at the Mariner’s Church in Detroit. Its bell rang a somber 29 times, each toll an honoring to a sailor’s soul claimed by Lake Superior that November 10th. Every year on the anniversary of the Fitzgerald’s sinking, the Mariner’s Church tolls its bell in remembrance of the men lost in the freshwater sea. On the 48th anniversary in 2023, the bell was rang an additional time, tolling 30 times. On May 1st, 2023, Gordon Lightfoot passed away due to natural causes. That additional toll was in honor of his life and all that he did to keep the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald alive, his song immortalizing the ship’s tragic end. 

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee. To this day, part of this fateful legend still survives. The SS Arthur M Anderson still serves on the very lake that claimed her sister 49 years ago. Her continued service is proof that, had the SS Edmund Fitzgerald not met her untimely demise so early in her life at the hands of the very frigid mistress that floated her cargo, she would still be its faithful servant. Every November 10th, the Anderson calls out to her sister; her horn wailing to both salute and mourn the beloved sister she honors with every trip she takes across Lake Superior. The Fitzgerald is a reminder to all of us. We do not know how long we have in this world and it could all be taken from us in an instant. Choose to live a life that you are proud of rather than one that is controlled and ruled by fear. 

[alotofpockets]

Support | Leighton Murray

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Summary: You're playing the championship game on the Essex field, with Leighton supporting you in the stands. [full request]

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1k

The championship game has been something you’ve been working towards since the beginning of the year when you had been selected to join the Essex soccer team. Everyone on the team has worked very hard to be playing here tonight. Joining the soccer team has been one of the best things to happen to you. You found instant friends in the team. Creating a ripple effect of positivity in your life. You immediately got close with Whitney, who had joined the team at the same time. She quickly became one of your closest friends along with Willow. Through your friendship with Whitney you had met Leighton, Whit’s roommate. You had an instant click with her, and knew from the first night you met that you would have a great connection with her. 

A warm feeling spreads in your chest thinking back on that first night that you had met Leighton. You look up at the stands as you walk onto the field to warm up. You wave when you see Leighton sitting there to support you and Whit, alongside Kimberly and Bela. You smile thinking how far the two of you had come since that first night, nearing your one year anniversary. However, you quickly get sucked out of your mushy memories by Coach Woods yelling out drills. 

The game starts and quickly the score is in your favor as Whitney manages to get close to the goal and kicks it out of reach of the goalkeeper. The crowd goes wild as the ball hits the back of the net. You celebrate with your teammates briefly before resuming the game. The game continues and the opponents seem to have regained their defense system and block every entry possible on their half of the field. After trying again and again the team was getting tired, sadly that meant the other team was able to score a goal right before the half time whistle blew. 

During half time in the locker room Coach Woods informs the team that you'll be using a different strategy that you've been practicing during training. You hadn't needed the strategy in any of the games leading up to this one, so you had the element of surprise to your advantage. You got back onto the field with some more energy again, ready to try this strategy. 

You spotted the perfect moment to try and execute the strategy. As the opposing team passes the ball amongst each other on your half of the field, their midfield and defense line moves up, as you had expected. You slowly move in between their midfield and defense line as Willow intercepts the ball, she notices your position on the field and kicks the ball in your direction. You're highly focused and have a great first touch, which means you gain control of the ball quickly. Since the sudden switch of sides, only the line of defense and the goalkeeper are between you and the goal. The defense is still spread out over the width of the field, so you pass the defender in front of you with ease. Once you're free, you take a look at the goal to see where the goalkeeper stood. You take a deep breath and put all your power behind your kick. The ball lands just out of reach for the goalkeeper, and before you even realize that the ball was in, your teammates' hugs come crashing into you. 

You're ahead once again, but you know that just the one goal ahead meant no time to relax, you had to keep this up. The team fought hard to keep the ball at bay for the rest of the game. You all succeeded to keep the 2-1 lead until the final whistle. You won the championship game! You go around hugging your teammates and shaking hands with your opponents. Once the opposing team left, more and more people from the stands joined you to celebrate on the field. Leighton hugged you tightly when she made it to your side. "You were amazing, I am so proud of you!" 

Coach Woods huddled all the girls on the team together, “You all did such an amazing job today, as well as the rest of the season. You can all be immensely proud of yourselves, I know I am.” She said, “All right, now go off and celebrate, you all deserve it.” The celebrations got louder and louder as boomboxes got connected and people started jumping around. You got more and more quiet as you started to get overwhelmed. Leighton, who was keeping an eye on you from a few groups of people over, noticed the situation was overstimulating you and made her way over. She grabs your hand and gently pulls you away from the group of people you were with, “Sorry, guys, just stealing my girlfriend for a second.” She guides you away from the loudness on the field with her arm around your waist, you lean into her absorbing the comfort that she brings you. She walks you all the way to the top of the bleachers, where she sits down and pulls you into her side. She knows how overwhelming crowds could be for you, so she sat quietly beside you. You play with her hand in your lap, putting your focus on that to help ground you. She places soft kisses on your temple, she knows just how to calm you. 

You proudly watch over the crowd below you, there were all here celebrating the team's win. “Thank you, baby. I love you.” You say letting Leighton know you appreciate her. “Always, and I love you too.” You stay on the bleachers while the buzz of people below you continues to celebrate. Whitney, Bela, and Kimberly look up at you from the field, Whitney types something on her phone and Leighton’s phone buzzes a second later, the message reads, ‘Ready to go?’. She nods their way and helps you up. On the way back to their down you snap a couple pictures. You hang in the dorm's common room with the girls the rest of the night, cuddled up into Leighton’s side. 

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